Derelict
by Someone Else Took My Name
Summary: This story follows the tale of Ben Wright, a made-up character in the Dead Space universe. Ben, a drunk and a veteran, has taken a job aboard a military vessel, hoping this job will be his last. Be careful what you wish for, right? ON HIATUS
1. Voices and Whispers

Prologue

Well, look at me. I'm writing Fan Fiction now, and while that may not be the best choice for me, it's a start. Right? Anyhow, this story does not revolve around Isaac, his friends, or any of the significant characters of Dead Space. Rather, it is set in the horrifying universe of Dead Space. I hope you'll enjoy this story, as it will hopefully be as fun reading it, as it was writing it. One should bear in mind, that I do not plan out my stories. I find that when a story resorts to plot, it quickly turns sour. If I run out of inspiration, then that is a known obstacle... Writer's block is a big problem for an eighth grade writer.

1

_Fucking prick, what the hell do you know about this profession? _He thought, as the small, balding man in front of him chattered on.

"... And this job will pay a bounty of 25000 Credits …"

_If I weren't so fucking strapped I wouldn't be here_. As he thought it, he shot what he hoped was a winning smile at the man in front of him.

"... This job will take place aboard the U.S.G. Rising Dawn ..."

_Just like these bastards to think up such a stupid name._

"... So Mr. Wright, what do you say?" The pale, officious, and somehow delicate man finished.

_What do I say? I'll say that you're just some middle management pencil-pushing asshole._

" Mr. Hoffman, I'll accept the job." Mr. Wright beamed.

Mr. Hoffman looked unimpressed.

"Great, wonderful. Just sign here."

"Sure." Mr. Wright, better known as Ben, thumbed the corner of the document that would determine the course of his life, shot another one of his Winning Smiles at his employer, and scrawled his signature onto the dotted line.

The look of warmth and comfort completely fell from Mr. Hoffman's face, revealing the cold and snakelike visage beneath. His voice lost the feigned graciousness it had so _carefully_ maintained earlier. "Thank you Mr. Wright, now here are some additional details. We have been receiving some... Interesting transmissions from the ship. You know, the typical suicide messages..."

_This shit is typical? What the fuck is wrong with these people?_ A look of troubled fear crossed Ben's face, and Mr. Hoffman seemed to pick up on it.

_ "..._And of course, the ever-present homicidal threats. No it's obvious what happened, right? These people have simply gone mad. Deep space insanity is, unfortunately, a common fate for these people."

"What if I refuse the job?"

"You can't, Mr. Wright. You signed the papers, now you're legally obliged to do this."

An undertone of desperation crept into Ben's voice. Hoffman seemed to relish it. "Why can't you just dump this on someone else?"

"Because, Mr. Wright, you're on the only one with military experience among our whole pool of engineers." A seemingly sinister tone crept into Hoffman's voice.

"Why the hell would you need military experience? And besides, I was just an engineer!" Panic swept through Ben, his voice and his body, and he fought to control it.

"End of discussion Mr. Wright, you already signed the papers..."

"You know what! Fuck you, I ain't taking this job! You... You can't make me."

"Mr. Wright, I said it was the end of discussion. Report in by the end of the week. We'll send you an email regarding who else will attend this mission alongside you."

A look of unmistakable defeat asserted itself onto Ben's face, followed by regret.

_I'm fucking_ _screwed._

* * *

Ben Wright lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was deep in contemplation, and shrouded in fear. He had lost control back at the office, and he knew that. He had lost, plain and simple. We wanted nothing more than to lay back and shoot himself, his life was already screwed, but he knew that such an act would be admitting defeat.

_And I'd never admit defeat to such a fucking prick_

So he waited, not doing anything but thinking. He wanted to know just when his life took such a miserable turn, and who the _hell_ was to blame for it.

_Who are you kidding? You brought it on yourself._

_ No! It can't be my fault... It was... It was.._

"What the hell is wrong with me... I'm arguing with myself for god's sake. I need a drink." Ben stumbled off his bed, and took a solitary glance around his apartment. It was a filthy, small space, typical of the bachelor's life. However, beneath the veneer of filth and grime, was the undertone of depression, or melancholy. Empty bottles and cans lay strewn about the whole 1 room space, and the whole place reeked of alcohol. But, he supposed, that a person get come to love that smell. He wandered to the far left side of his room and opened the mini-fridge. He pulled out a thin necked bottle of wine, cheap and disgusting, probably synthetic, and choked down a gulp. Ben shuddered with the taste, and fought back the urge to puke.

_I should probably stick to beer and whiskey... But I can't afford the good stuff anymore._

After the first gulp, it got easier. He took a deep breath, and began a long and lonely night of drinking. He stumbled forward and fell onto the carpeted floor, holding the bottle's neck in a death grip. He quaffed half the bottle in two large gulps, and kept on drinking. Slowly, steadily, the world descended into a buzzing gray utopia of silence. No more worries, no more responsibilities, no more _memories_, and he never felt better. Ben took one more sidelong glance at the bottle, as if gazing at a lover, and then drank back the rest of the cheap wine. He finished his fall into silence.

_Who are you running from?_

The thought nearly snapped him alert, it was such an... _Alien_ voice, as if it were spawned from an entirely different mind than his own.

_Calm down Wino, you're just having a little freak-out._

_Yes... that's it. You're fine, just a little drunk, right?_

With that thought, Benjamin Wright lulled himself into a fitful, and desperate sleep.

* * *

"Ben! Over here!" A voice, desperate and teeming with panic, screamed out.

"I'm coming, hang on!" Ben turned toward the source of the voice, and sprinted toward it. In his left hand, a service pistol, in his right, a plasma grenade. He sprinted forward, pulling hot air into his lungs. A terrifying scream pierced his ears, shaking his balance and sending a thin rill of blood down each of them. He nearly stumbled to the ground, but held up. He knew that if he faltered now, he would almost surely die.

"Help me! Please, I can hear them coming toward me!" The voice took a shrill and terrified overtone.

"Hold on a little bit longer! I'm almost there!" Ben's own voice became terrified, and panic began to take hold over the contours of his mind. He redoubled his efforts, and sprinted forward, twice as fast. Gradually, the air became hotter and smokier, but he pushed forward. Another scream pierced his ears, but he ignored it.

"Oh god! Hurry, there's _hundreds _of them!"

This time, Ben didn't reply, he didn't have the breath to spare. His hand clenched around the plasma grenade, tightening into a vise. After what seemed like an eternity of running, he came to the source of the voice. There he was, lying under a red-hot girder. The ruins of the cruiser lay in shambles all around them. About 100 yards ahead, were the source of his panic, of his fear. Hundreds of monstrosities, shambling ever-forward. They were horrific, _terrifying_, and had to die.

Ben screamed a war-cry, and charged toward the waves and waves of fleshy, mutated monsters. He fired his service pistol endlessly into the monsters, but of course, it was ineffectual. Hot, terrible air pulled into his lungs, and he threw the plasma grenade directly into the middle of that horde. A massive flash of light, absolutely blinding, pierced his eyes. The light shot spears of pain all through his mind, tearing at the sinewy remains of his sanity... Then it ended. A massive blast of heat and force pushed him back, and threw him to the ground. He felt something snap, and shatter, and then lost all consciousness.

* * *

Ben's eyes snapped awake, pupils dilated and vision narrowed. This dream had pulsed through his mind so many times before... But it was _just _a dream, right?

_Of course it was just a dream, don't be stupid._

Yes... Yes, it was just a dream. There was no way such a stupid dream could have happened. He relaxed ever so slightly, and then became aware of the pain. His head pulsed with a terrible headache, worse than any pain he had ever known before.

_You self-pitying bastard._

Again, that alien voice asserted itself into his mind. And again, he ignored it. It was the only way to get through the day.

The dreaded aftermath of last night's wine kept asserting itself further and further into his mind, turning all conscious thought toward pain. Muttering something indescribable, Ben crawled into the shadows, pulled a blanket over his eyes, and fell into darkness.


	2. Denial

Derelict (Chap 2)

He awoke several hours later, finding, with marked relief, that the pain had faded. He pulled himself out of the strong fatigue that accompanies hangover, and pushed himself up off the ground. He tried to recall the events of yesterday's "discussion" with Hoffman...

_He said something about an email... I think._

He struggled to recall yesterday's events, and finally succeeded.

_Oh yeah, he'd send me an email by the end of the week, right?_

He took a look at his clock, and nodded to himself. A moment later, he sat in front of his computer, staring into the monitor.

_Mr. Wright. To accompany you alongside this operation, are a number of intelligent researchers, engineers like yourself, and a multitude of trained soldiers to keep you safe. Not to worry sir, they're just a formality, it isn't as if we expect trouble on board the ship. Here is a roster list of our senior officers._

_ Lieutenant Grigori Jones, Security Chief_

_ Ensign Don Ferguson, Chief Engineer_

_ Ensign Jacquelyn Smith, Chief Researcher_

_ Mr. Wright, we know of your... History. That history will be known to the world. That __includes__ the authorities. Bear that in mind when you think about quitting or giving out these names._

He stared unbelievably at that last statement. He was dumbfounded, absolutely paralyzed with both fear and anger. How _dare_ they? He was a citizen just as much as anyone, and he had rights... This was a threat, downright fraud! What history did he have?

_Don't repress it. You know._ This time, the thought was his own, not the cold and unknown voice he had heard before.

He also vaguely recalled that he would have to report back into that dreaded office.

_Ugh, I'm sick of this. Just one last job... Then I'm set for life... Just one last job._

Ben slipped on his leather jacket, his pilot's cap, and walked through the door. He strolled down the hallway, carefully retracing his steps back into the office where that... Snake had forced him into this job.

After what seemed like an eternity of walking, he came to the office. Ben stood outside the door, quietly contemplating whether or not to go in.

"... I could run... He can't trace me in one day, right?"

_Yes he can... This man is much more dangerous than you think._ The alien voice breached his mind, but this time it seemed to have dropped the callous tone it held earlier.

"... What the hell is wrong with me?" He mumbled to himself quietly, and somewhat angrily.

"Sir? Is something wrong?" A feminine, cultured voice spoke behind Ben.

Ben, so invested in his thoughts, jumped at the voice behind him, and then settled when he looked back at the young face behind him.

"Uh yeah, I'm fine ma'am, thank you."

"Okay sir. Have a nice day." She walked off, casting a nervous glance at him as she went.

Ben shook his head silently, and walked into Hoffman's office. Hoffman seemed somewhat surprised at Ben's presence, and his voice betrayed that fantasy.

"Ah, Mr. Wright, thank you for coming. I see you were smart enough not to run. Close the door, would you?" Silently, Ben closed the door.

"Alright Hoffman, when am I leaving?"

"At 4:00. I'd advise you begin packing soon."

"I see, thank you."

"There is another reason why I wanted you here, other than roll call." Hoffman's voice, once again, took a sinister and somehow snakelike undertone.

"Oh yeah, what might that be?" This time, Ben maintained his level of calmness and impertinence.

"Why, your... History. I informed you of this via email, correct? Completely closed circuits mind you, completely private."

"What about my history? I'm just an engineer, nothing special about me..."

"Don't be stupid, Mr. Wright, you know damn well what I'm talking about. You're the only one aboard that whole ship that didn't succumb to that... Madness. As a sole survivor, you saw your entire team killed aboard that ship. Yet, you tell me that you don't know? Why is that?"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about, you're being foolish!"

"No sir, YOU are being foolish. Denial is bad for you, _Ben_... Never mind, you don't have to tell me... I already know."

"Yeah, whatever. We done here?"

"Yes Mr. Wright, we're done here. You can scuttle back to your hovel now."

Ben felt his fist clench, and then released it. There would be a time to crush his stupid skull in, but not now. Some other time, some other opportunity would come, he was sure of it. Instead, he managed his most courteous smile, bowed, and left the room.

* * *

His bags were packed, and it wasn't a difficult chore either. Mostly, he packed his booze, the scant remainders of his wardrobe, and a rather antiquated service pistol that held some significance in his mind. He took a final look at his apartment, his own hive of despair. It was always such a horrible place, but he loved it anyway. With a sigh, he stepped out into the dim hallways of his tenement, and wandered away from his home.

He wandered ever further down the maze of hallways, gradually making his way toward Spaceport V-14, where he would escape all the misery of this horrid city. As he walked, he contemplated what Hoffman had said to him.

_"I already know"_ The thought shook him, that he could be so closely watched, it almost wounded him. He spiraled ever further into his thoughts, slowly descending into his own special form of madness. He remained so entranced, until he finally came to the double doors that led into the Space Port. The doors slid open in front of him, and he came in sight of the frigate that would carry him to his salvation. It was a large, almost titanic thing, about half as big as a cruiser. It barely seemed to fit in the confines of the Space Port.

There to greet him, was Chief Engineer Don Ferguson.

"Hey there, Ben is it? The Boss told me about you, glad to have you on board."

Ben, almost surprised by the genuine warmth and friendliness in this man's voice, responded.

"Hello Mr. Ferguson, glad to be here."

"Alright then, move on, you'll find your assignment inside."

Ben nodded and walked into the frigate. Upon entering, he gasped at the massive size of the interior. He was in what looked like a huge lobby room, where rows of secretaries were talking to torrents of crew mates. Ben himself was used to puny, cramped shuttles with only 8 or 9 people on board. Here, it looked like there could be thousands of people here. He recovered from his temporary shock, and moved forward into one of the shorter lines. About ten minutes later, it was his turn.

"Name?"

"Ben Wright, W-R-I-G-H-T."

"Okay... You're in Sector L-2, shuttle bay. Your Dorm is in sector L-9, room #1893. Have a nice day. Next!"

Ben wandered off, after briefly consulting the ship map.

_Holy crap... This ship is absolutely massive._

Ben first went to his dorm, via an interesting monorail system that delivered him to his sector. He wandered down the halls, looking at the doors, and eventually came to his dorm.

_1893, here we are._

Ben took in a breath, and pushed his way in. The dorm was nothing special, pretty small, two room, and looked unoffensive and monotone. He slid onto the dorm's cot, and thought of the past.

_You never should have came here._ Ben shoved the thought out of his mind, and then refocused his mind. This was his home, and such thoughts would do no good for his confidence. A moment later, he turned to the terminal on the far left side of his room. He turned on the computer, and looked over the ship's schedule.


	3. They Come Back

3

He awoke silently and wordlessly. He had been on this ship for nearly 2 months, and had come close to forgetting why he had actually come here. He had forgotten the nature of his assignment, other than his duties in the shuttle bay, which was little more than busywork. He had forgotten the man who coerced him into this job, however subtle he might have been, he had forgotten his previous life... But he never forgot just _where_ he was headed. A derelict ship.

_History has a way of repeating, doesn't it?_ A nonsense thought, of course it was. Ships went Derelict all the time, usually it was just some chemical contamination, nothing major. What history would there be to repeat, anyway? They'd get there quickly, send a couple shuttles in, maybe contact any survivors and take some samples, and then go home. Nice and quick, 25000 credits. Easy job, right?

Ben stopped his contemplations, thinking was too dangerous sometimes, after all. He walked down to the lounge, he needed a drink.

_Fuck they have good booze here, way better than that crap I had back home._

5 minutes later, he stopped into the lounge. The place was pretty empty, early morning and all, it was expected to be. Ben walked up to the barkeep.

"Oh hi Ben, doesn't it seem a tad early"

"Just serve me Jack, I'm not feelin' so good today." With a slightly tragic undertone, Ben seemed quite convincing.

" Sure thing man, the usual?"

"Yeah, thanks." Ben kept his eyes low, focusing intently on his coaster. A few moments later, an iced brandy stood tall on the counter top. He took the drink, stared at it for a moment, then drank it down. He relished the taste, which he now associated with the luxuries and ease that this frigate provided. He looked down at his empty drink, and then his stomach.

_I'm getting pretty fat, aren't I?_

He didn't like his image... But here on the ship, he didn't need exercise. There were top notch medical facilities, and the food was completely healthy for you... The synthetic flavoring was completely harmless, but absolutely _delicious_. So what if it added pounds? It didn't clog your arteries. Still, he kept these thoughts to himself, and ordered himself another brandy.

About 30 minutes later, role call started. Ben, not quite drunk but not quite sober either, excused himself and sauntered down to Sector L-2, a half empty glass of beer in his hand. When he arrived, the glass had been thrown out and his uniform had been straightened out. He almost looked professional. He stood in line, alongside everyone else, while Supervisor Williams called out names.

"Wright?"

"Here sir."

"Alright, that takes care of it. Get to work people."

Ben began his shift, occasionally glancing at his watch.

"Hey Benny. Been putting on weight?" Another co-worker, Anton, muttered.

"Huh?" Ben had been refitting the pulse cannon on board a shuttle, and had been completely preoccupied.

"Just saying man, you're belly's been getting pretty wide. Puttin' down too many beers?"

"Heh, I guess so." Again, he had been paying no attention. His mind was elsewhere.

Ben had finished his 6 hour shift, and had begun his slow march back toward the lounge. He just wanted nothing more than to quaff down five or six beers, maybe get in a poker game or two, and fall asleep.

* * *

He was in the midst of his sleep, when he heard a loud ping come from his terminal. His eyes shifted lazily awake, and he took a solitary glance at his terminal. The monitor was glowing brightly now, and there seemed to be a message from the bridge pasted on the desktop. With a yawn, Ben stumbled off his cot and sat in front of his monitor.

_Attention all crew mates aboard the U.S.G. Rising Dawn. We have come within a light year of our target ship, the U.S.G. Corsair. We will soon reach our target. Our journey has almost ended comrades._

_- Security Chief Grigori Jones_

"Almost over huh, well that's a shame. This was a damn good vacation." Ben said cheerfully to himself.

Quietly, and peacefully, he settled back into sleep.

* * *

He was lying on the ground, his service pistol lying damaged two feet away. His rib cage was badly shattered, his lung had been punctured, and blood was flowing openly from his mouth. There was horrific stabbing pain all over his insides, as if his organs were filled with molten lead. His skin was horribly burnt, and one of his eyes had been literally melted out of it's socket. The only thing that spared the other, was the ruined mess of his helmet. His armored suit was a tattered mess of metal and cloth, and his body was pockmarked with shrapnel and third degree burns. He looked up, and shoved the shattered visor away from his eye. There were still dozens of those wandering monsters approaching him, they were slow and weak, but that wouldn't last forever.

Wounds healed, didn't they?

His mind, reeling from the shock of his injuries and the death of the very man he tried to save, tried to piece together the horrific events that had made up his life... His mind tried to make sense of this madman's puzzle. Screaming, Ben scrabbled for his pistol, and stumbled upward. He had barely made it up, when he caught a horrible groaning noise behind him. He turned around, and saw a horrific monster, one of the many that had tormented his life for the last three months. It's flesh was a mixture of pasty, beige flesh, to sheer white bone plating. Stretching from it's spine, were to elongated arm-like structures, that ended in long bony spikes in place of hands. The creature swung one of it's talon'ed "arms" at him, and buried it deep into the scrambled mess of his internal organs.

He let out a horrific scream, one last terrible scream, before graying out. He would have died right then and there, if his emergency life-support didn't kick in. It was amazing that it even still functioned even after the beating that the suit had took. The pain numbed, and the blood stopped flowing for a time. The sense of terror and panic fell away to a cold pleasure, and grim delight. Pistol in hand, Ben fired a full twenty rounds into the creature's skull. Using the arm that had still retained it's armored sleeve, he slammed his fist heavily into the monster's skull. Once, twice, three times... It wasn't long before the monstrosity was dead, and it's skull was a mess of red paste.

Ben reloaded his pistol with one of the few remaining magazines for his pistol, and shot off the bony talon that protruded from his abdomen, reducing it to a mere stump. The fight that had seemed to last forever, but had ended in little more than half a minute. He staggered away from the site of the ruined, metal husk of the ship he had flown in on. He took a glance behind him, and noticed all the devastation that was behind him. It was bright, and fiery. It was gruesome and bloody, it was horrifying and terrible.

And it was beautiful.

* * *

Ben awoke, trembling, running with sweat, and absolutely chilled. He bit back a scream, and looked around. He was still in his room, and it looked the same way it did when he fell asleep.

_The dreams... They've come back._ Ben groaned at the thought. The Dreams, they were the reason he resorted to drinking in the first place... Drinking to forget. Now they were back.

_They always come back._ Ben shuddered. The alien voice drilled it's cold, malicious voice all throughout his mind.

_You can't run from fate, Ben._ He had enough of it, Ben took another glance at his apartment, and exited into the corridor. He walked down the hall, slow and trembling, to the monorail station.

_No! No no no no... I'm not running from anything... What do I have to hide?_ His thoughts were frantic and confused.

_Who are you trying to convince? You, or me?_

"Just shut up..." Ben muttered under his breath.

A finger tapped on his shoulder.

Ben stifled a scream, stepped forward, and turned around. There in front of him, was another one of his co-workers.

_Uh... He's Mikhail Azarof, isn't he? A Russian fellow._

Mikhail was not the stereotypical Russian. He had an accent, but it was fading pretty rapidly, and he liked his liquor, but not anywhere as close as Ben's own appreciation. He was an electrical engineer, with some computer experience. Mostly he spent his time programming the auto-cannons, wiring the electrical systems, and occasionally re-calibrating a targeting computer. A reliable fellow, very intelligent.

The dead opposite of Ben.

"Is something wrong Ben? You seemed to be in fear"

"Uh... No, no. Probably just nervous about the Derelict." Ben muttered.

"I can see a lie, friend, and you have one plastered all over your face." Ben shivered at the words.

"I... I can't tell you. It's just a bit too... Personal."

"I see." Mikhail walked in silence alongside him, toward the Monorail station.

The station was pretty packed, mostly just other crewmen taking their blankets to the Starboard Observation Deck, where the Derelict would most likely be seen. Ben and a few other people were headed to the lounge, and he was glad not to be alone this time. He sat on the monorail's bench in silence, as the ride took it's short trip to the lounge.

* * *

He was drunk. Very drunk, and hoped to be drunker. Anything to get rid of those horrible dreams.

_I... i... i..._

All conscious thoughts ceased, as the blackout's icy maw teared through his mind.

He awoke 12 hours later.


	4. Arrival

4

"Ben! Ben! Get up, c'mon!" A voice tore through the horrible blackness that had enveloped his mind. "Ben! Hurry, the ship's coming in range!"

Ben's eyes fluttered open, and snapped shut at the terrible light. The abominable light that caused so much pain.

"... I'm awake..."

"Then get up! Come on. They're gonna do roll call soon." Ben's eyes slitted open at that last sentence.

"Alright, I'm getting up. I have a terrible hangover."

"What a friggin surprise. Come on."

Ben got a look at the person. It was another one of his coworkers. Odd that they actually cared about him.

Ben stumbled down the hallway toward his shuttle bay, one hand rubbing his temples, the other shielding his eyes. Pain shot vibrant streaks across his vision, and his head was pulsing with sick, painful tremors. It seemed that he had been walking for hours, a sensation he was familiar with, when he realized that the co-worker that had awoken him was gone. He took a glance behind him.

_No one... Am I going insane?_

He refused to respond to that, even if it was strictly within the domains of his own head. Still, he kept walking until he came to the shuttle bay.

_That's odd... No one's here._

Still, Ben didn't complain. He liked the dim lighting and the clear view that the shuttle bay offered. He looked out the reinforced glass, anatomically enhanced, and stared into the abyss. A voice came on over the intercom.

"All crewmen, the U.S.G. Rising Dawn will make a hyperspace jump in 60 seconds. We will reach our target soon."

_Don't leave this room._ That ominous voice tore through his hungover head, leaving vibrant pain as it did.

"Hey, it's you." Ben turned around, it was Mikhail and a few other engineers.

"Why are you guys here?" Ben asked, his voice quiet and strained.

"We figured that this was the best place to see the ship, reinforced glass and all."

"I guess it makes sense." The others settled in, just watching the abyss. It didn't take long for the hyperspace jump to begin, and complete. We came into sight of the Derelict.

It was a hulking, colossal ship, absolutely massive. Our own frigate seemed to be dwarfed by the cruiser. It was completely dark, and no one seemed to be home. We could see nothing more than the dark shape that the ship cast.

"Shit, that thing's... Big." An engineer muttered.

"Mhmm." Ben agreed.

A voice over the intercom interrupted the silent awe that held the crew silent.

"The Derelict is completely dead, no electric or nucleic reactions detected. In 1 hour, we'll be within boarding range."

As the ship approached the ship, the crew only delved further into their awe, and their horror. As the U.S.G. Rising Dawn cast it's focused light onto the ship, it was revealed that it was laced with pasty, beige-colored flesh. It was surrounded with that gruesome net, and held in thrall. The ship moved ever closer to the Derelict.

"Wait... That thing isn't dead. The cannon's charging up!" Ben shouted as he noticed a faint glow from the maw of the ship's interplanetary cannon. The cannon was a massive thing, maybe 200 meters wide, with two metallic prongs on either side of that distance. They were perfectly symmetrical, flat and wide, and spanning outward to about a quarter of a mile. In the very center of it's gaping maw, a faint bluish white light was gaining mass.

"Fuck! You're right! Get to cover!" An engineer shouted. Ben scrambled toward the lockers, and slipped on his E.V.A. Suit. He dressed quickly, and stayed behind a heavy crate as he did so. He finished soon, scrambled behind cover, and watched the faint bluish-white glow expand.

"Everyone! Grab a suit just in case..." Mikhail was screaming now, both in frustration and panic.

That glow expanded, and eventually became a blindingly bright orb, impossible to ignore. It burned horrific pain all throughout Ben's hungover eyes, but he forced himself to keep looking. The intercom screamed over the din of the shuttle bay.

"All crewmen! We were wrong, brace for impact!" A few moments later, a brilliant and blinding flash of light tore across the empty space between the two ships. The beam was huge, maybe a full half mile long, but no one would observe such a thing in time. It flashed across the distance at incredible speed. The projectile itself wasn't as fast as light, but it was damn close. It slammed into the Starboard Observation deck, heavy and deadly. With silent horror, the crewmen in that shuttle bay watched as dozens of people were ejected into empty space. Over the intercom, a new transmission came in.

"The Marker controls all! The Marker enlightens! Heathens! Heathens! Burn in righteous fire! BURN! BUR-" The transmission cut out abruptly, and the normal intercom voice came in.

"Kinetic barriers online, we're pulling away. Our own weapons aren't in range to retaliate, and we'll lose if we keep fighting... We lost 89 people, and another 244 were wounded. Engineering crews, L-1, L-2, L-3, and L-4 report to the Starboard Observation Deck. Stop the fires and repair the hull. Engineering Crews L-5 and L-6 report to the Kinetic Generator. Prevent it from overheating and keep it efficient. GO!"

Quickly, and fearfully, the engineers of shuttle bay L-2 sprinted toward their assigned positions. As the others scuttled away, Ben took another glance as the Interplanetary Cannon recharged, and fired. The second blast did not pierce the shields, but put incredible strain on the electrical systems. The ship was moving away at a rapid rate now, and would hopefully be out of the range of that cannon before it was too late. Nevertheless, it was still firing. We had moved several dozens of miles away, the ship was slowly fading from view, but the interplanetary cannon still fired.

_They lured you into a trap._ That horrific voice sent shudders down his spine. Ben pulled himself away from the view, and sprinted toward his station. As he ran, the lights completely died, and he was enveloped in darkness. It seemed that the entire ship had gone silent for a period, and then another burst of energy from that Interplanetary Cannon slammed into the ship. The beam of energy tore straight through the Communications Relay, and took with it a huge chunk of metal. The intercom blared on.

"Engineering Crews L-1, L-2, and L-3 report to the Fusion Generator! L-4, report to the Kinetic Generator!"

A third beam of energy slammed into the ship, knocking out Shuttle Bay L-3, and killing a decent amount of people. A split second later, the Kinetic Barrier reactivated. The engines pushed us further and further away from the ship. Finally, the hulking colossus had faded away, and the Interplanetary Cannon no longer held the ship under thrall. The entire crew seemed to sigh with relief, and it was mostly true. The intercom blared on.

"We have left the firing range of that cannon, and can now relax. All crews report to your original posts."

_Relax? We just lost 200 people!_

The intercom blared on.

"We'll devise a plan for this later, but for now, report to your supervisors. We have a long day ahead of us."

* * *

Indeed, the day was long and arduous. Repairs had to be made, and of course, funerals and ceremonies were to be held. Ben spent most of his time E.V.A.'d, repairing the Communications Relay, attempting to restore it. It was horribly burned, and mangled, and would be impossible to restore. At the very least, they could erect the emergency relay. This was a very important device, and in deep space, communications were essential. He spent nearly eight hours working in the cold reaches of space, mainly hauling material up and down, before retiring to his bed. He was bone tired, more tired than he had ever been before.

_Get used to it._ The alien voice soared through his mind, but for once, he ignored it, and fell deep into sleep.

* * *

He was hurt very badly. The emergency life support would not last forever, and his chances of surviving this horrific turn of events faded ever further in oblivion. He was walking away now, but in actuality, he was staggering. He hitched in hot, terrible air and pushed himself to the edge of his physical endurance. He took a glance behind him, and noted that the monstrosities were still coming toward him, and gaining ground. He still stumbled forward, and came to a metal wall. He took a look back, and then climbed over the wall. The metal was burning hot, and his flesh was screaming in pain, but he ignored it. He would _not _die here, no way. He stood up and fired another twenty rounds into the monsters below. He turned forward, and noticed the vast, desolate wasteland ahead of him.

Pain pierced his back, and he turned. Some sort of variant on the monster he saw before, it was standing about 60 or so meters behind him. It was rapidly growing needle-like bones from his arm, and launching them at him. Ben flipped his visor over his remaining eye, and fired his pistol at it. The monster stumbled back, but did not come close to dying. He took the hint. Ben took in a hitching, dying breath, and charged away. He stumbled through the wasteland, before collapsing to the ground. He crawled further, blood pouring from both his wounds and his mouth, pushing forward toward nothing.

A screaming hiss behind him, terrible, loud, and lethal, erupted behind him. Ben turned around and was charged by another one of the hulking monsters he had faced earlier. One of it's spiked arms slammed down a mere foot from his skull. He took his pistol, shoved it into the monster's skull, and fired his second-to-last clip into the monster's skull. He crawled out from under the monster, and stood up. He stumbled back, and picked up a red-hot rod of metal with his one gloved hand. He took it, and shoved it into the gaping maw of the monster that had attacked him.

The monstrosity screamed in horrible pain, and died. Ben pulled back, and then looked over. He was surrounded, completely surrounded.

A heavy needle of bone pierced through his chest, and then another followed. A flurry of sharp bones tore through him, his arms, his legs, and one through the skull. He fell to the ground, unconscious and dying.

* * *

Once more, Ben awoke in fear, and covered in sweat. He was absolutely terrified.

_Was that... Me?_

Nonsense, of course it was. He wasn't dead, and whoever was in that dream was surely dead. Right?

He sat up, pulled his knees to his chin, and rocked back and forth. He wanted nothing more than the sweet relief of sleep. He wanted nothing more than a dreamless haze.

But we don't always get what we want, do we?


	5. Discovery

Ben propelled himself further, closer and closer to the huge, metal doors that stood as twin sentinels for the hangar. The doors were thick metal, but certainly not impenetrable. With his arc welder in hand, he latched himself to the hangar door, and started melting his way through. Five minutes passed before he finally got through the thick metal door, and he started to melt through the rest of the metal wall. It took an additional hour for him to get completely through that door, and into the hangar bay.

He slowly descended into the large room, taking note of the scenery using his low-light visor. The hangar was completely empty of ships, but was littered with blood, limbs, but curiously, no bodies.

_Do you think it's some illness now? _The alien voice muttered.

Finally, he reached ground level. He took another look around the room, searching for the access panel that would let him lower the doors. Air was being torn out of the room in a quick vacuum, created by the hole he punched in the wall, but it didn't faze him. His armor was too heavy for it. Ben located the holographic terminal, and walked toward it. As he walked, he heard a noise behind him. What sounded like a dog's claws on linoleum.

Except dogs didn't scream, did they?

Ben turned around. He stared directly behind him, but saw nothing.

_It's just your imagination, you'll be fine._ He tried to comfort himself, but it didn't seem to work.

He turned back to the terminal, and kept walking. Ben marched closer and closer to the terminal, slowly forcing himself to walk. He forced himself a few steps further, when he heard another sound. He heard what sounded like desperate scrabbling and groans. He took a deep breath, and turned around. For a split second, he thought he saw what looked like a bony talon, before it darted out of his sight.

_It's nothing... It... It's nothing._

He continued on his way to the panel, walking slowly.

_Left foot... Right Foot... Left... Right... Left..._

Finally, he reached the panel. He breathed an innate sigh of relief, and checked the panel.

NO POWER DETECTED

...

...

NO EMERGENCY POWER SOURCE DETECTED

...

...

RESTORE REACTOR OR INSERT EMERGENCY POWER SOURCE

_Just my fucking luck, isn't it._

Ben stepped away from the console. He pondered over what to do.

_There might be some plasma batteries in the locker room, but it's far-fetched. The reactor's a fair distance from here, no way I'd reach it. Uh... I might have to contact the shuttle... Maybe I cou-_

His thoughts were interrupted, and turned to screaming panic when he felt the horrible feel of a bony hand running down his shoulder blades. He turned around to see the gaping maw of a horrific monster. The monster that had haunted his dreams for so long. It's elongated arms jutted from it's shoulders, and two small, disfigured hands jutted from it's stomach. Extended from it's disfigured hands were two individual spikes of bone. It's eyes, dead and hollow, stared directly into his before it let out a horrific scream. It slammed it's talons toward him.

Ben snapped himself just out of his paralysis to dodge the blow. He ducked under the monster's extended arm, and began a desperate run.

_You have no weapons, a lightly armored Engineering R.I.G., no knowledge of this ship... You're dead._ The alien voice bored into the depths of his mind, resonating with ephemeral power.

He sprinted further and further away, but the monster would not give up. Finally, Ben reached the end of the hangar bay. There were two sliding doors, but they were jammed shut. There was no other way out.

_LOCKER ROOM! _His mind, terrified and panicked, screamed. He took a sidelong glance at the room, and sprinted for it. A monstrous scream let out behind him, but Ben mostly ignored it. He only had one chance to do this. He took a look behind him, and noted with some degree of horror that the one monster had become six, and more were joining the crowd. He reached the door to the locker room, and pulled the door up.

With a heavy degree of panic, he pulled the door back down again, and proceeded to loot the locker room. He pulled as many doors open as he possibly could, searching for anything useful. He heard the sound of bending metal, and took a glance at the door.

_They're knocking the door down, pal. You're screwed._ The voice droned.

Ben pulled open another door, and found something quite interesting. It looked like a surgical saw of sorts, except it didn't have a conventional blade. He pressed a trigger, and a paper-thin beam of light shot upwards. It was about three inches wide, and six inches long. The light was bluish-white, and seemed to consist of plasma. In short, it was a plasma knife.

The large metal door behind him tore open, and a huge swarm of necromorphs flooded into the cramped room. With a scream, he charged into the horde. This new weapon, coupled with his rising adrenaline, seemed to make him absolutely _insane_ with bravado. He sliced away at the horde, occasionally dodging out of the way of any swinging talons. One of the monsters charged at him, and swung it's bladed hand at him. The blade carved deeply into his armor, nearly slicing at the fragile flesh beneath, but barely avoided it.

"FUCK YOU MONSTERS!" He brought the knife down, hard into the monstrosity's skull. He carved into it, but it seemed to do nothing but enrage it. The monster redoubled it's efforts, and slammed it's bony fist into Ben's visor. Ben flew backward, and slammed into the wall. His visor was cracked, and the room became completely dark. In the darkness, he heard the enraged sound of the six necromorphs that shared the room. He scrabbled away blindly, his hands seeking purchase on something, _anything_ useful.

One of them charged forward and slammed it's talon into the metal tiles, just inches away from his thigh.

_They don't miss twice._ The alien voice whispered.

He brought the knife down on the exposed talon, sawing it down to a stub of blunted bone. He got to his feet, and ran down the locker room. It was cramped and small, and he had no idea just _where_ to run. He felt another talon scrape a trail across his back. Suddenly, his low-light visor came back online. There were more than six now, now the number was probably closer to thirteen or fourteen. Ben screamed, and ran out the door, and away from the locker room. The necromorphs followed, groaning and screaming with terrible, rotted voices. Ben fled away, and finally reached the door control module.

_Maybe the plasma battery in this knife?!_ He thought, panicked and afraid.

Of course, the battery was far too small. A stupid thought to begin with. One of the monsters approached him, and swung it's talon at him, horizontally. The talon left a deep gash in his armor, cutting into the flesh as it did so. Ben took his knife and cut off the monster's arm, and then the other. He sprinted soon after.

_The first wound... The first of many. _The alien voice droned into his head.

Ben's lungs were burning, and he was slowing down. He cursed himself for not having exercised aboard the ship. He redoubled his strength and sprinted into the janitorial office. He slammed the door shut, and bolted it down with a titanium bar. He searched through the closet, listening as the metal door began to bend. Finally, he found what he needed. A large plasma battery. It was dark, but could easily be reignited once it was put in a power slot.

Hopefully.

He took the battery and put it in his R.I.G.'s storage compartment. Suddenly, a bony talon shot through the metal door, nearly decapitating him.

"Fuck! Way too close!" Ben shouted.

Ben looked around, and finally, saw another way out. It looked like an air vent. He pulled the vent open and began a mad crawl through it. He heard the monsters breach through the door, and claw at the door bar. He heard the gruesome wrench as they literally tore it out of the wall.

"Ben! Ben! Where are you? What's happening?!" His radio, located on his shoulder, blared.

_The radio! I forgot all about the damn radio!_

"Yeah, I'm here! Monsters, monsters everywhere. I can't get the doors open, not enough power! HELP... ME..!" Ben shouted into the radio.

"What? Snap out of it Ben, you're fine! We're not detecting any other life forms than yours!"

"They... They're dead. But they still move! Blast the doors! Please, you have to believe me!" Ben was screaming with hysteria and rage. He kept crawling through the vents, before finally reaching the end.

"Ben... Please calm down. Nothing is wrong, you're fine. There is _no one else_ with you. Please, calm down."

Ben stopped trying to argue with Mikhail, and instead worked on getting through the vent. He pulled the vent door open, and stepped back into the hangar. He had put a small amount of distance between him and the necromorphs, but it wouldn't last long. They had seen him. Ben sprinted to the control panel, inserted the plasma battery, and began to work on the doors.

_Jammed... Of course._

The monsters sprinted after him, fully enraged and deadly. Ben activated his propulsion systems, and began to make his slow way up. The rocket boots made their steady way up. They were meant for space propulsion, but might work here if he hit the afterburners. He flew up slowly, being careful to avoid the monstrous talons of the horrible monsters. Ben reached the top of the door, and noticed the huge metal cogs. They were completely clogged with an odd web of tough flesh and bone... The exact same thing those... Monsters were made of. He hacked away at the fleshy web, and tore it off.

The top door almost instantly began to pull up, but the bottom door was still stuck. The necromorphs flooded out the door, with the strength of space's horrible vacuum increased exponentially.

"Holy fucking shit... You were right." Mikhail's voice, both raw with terror and awe, blared over the radio.

"Hell yeah I was, now get in the hangar." Ben gestured the shuttle in, and it came. As soon as the shuttle entered, Ben deactivated the propulsion and fell down to the ground with a heavy thud. He examined himself. He was hurt, but not badly. He should recover quickly if he was careful. He was lucky.

This time.


End file.
